


Five Ways Mary died and one she didn't.

by violetknights



Category: SPN
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-25
Updated: 2011-05-25
Packaged: 2017-10-19 18:51:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetknights/pseuds/violetknights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Fairly self-explanatory really, I felt I need ed to have a go at the obligatory 5 things fic :D</p>
    </blockquote>





	Five Ways Mary died and one she didn't.

**Author's Note:**

> Fairly self-explanatory really, I felt I need ed to have a go at the obligatory 5 things fic :D

Sam was just a baby when it happened, when his Mom was taken from him in an orgy of flames and demon driven destruction.

Mary died slashed and burning on the ceiling, her mind filled with a jumbled confusion of _why did you do this to me?_ and _my babies!_ and finally one long pain-filled shriek of _John!_

Sam was too little to remember what really happened, he only knew what Dean told him, because his Dad never spoke about it. Sam didn’t know if the flames that haunted his nightmares were memories or just figments of his imagination, or something else entirely.

*************

For three days after the fire baby Sam didn’t stop crying, “Mama! Mama!” It had been his first and so far only word. As they drove aimlessly through state after state, heading who knew where the baby sobbed and howled. John was so caught up in his own pain that he barely even noticed the baby’s distress or Dean’s anguish. John just kept on driving as if the miles he covered could stop the pain or turn the clock back.

Dean soon realised that his Dad wasn’t going to take care of the baby so he did it himself, changed his diaper’s, wrapped him in a blanket, tried to get him to drink juice from a bottle. Still Sammy just howled, “Mama! Mama!”

Then one night as Sammy sat cradled on Dean’s lap in the back of the Impala he stopped sobbing, and grasped his big brother’s finger in his chubby fist. “Bubba!” he sniffed weepily. Dean smiled and tickled his baby brother’s cheek. “Sammy called me brother Dad” he said proudly.

Sam never cried for his mother again; well not out loud anyway.

*************

Sam was three and Dean was eight the first time John figured they were old enough to leave alone. He went through the whole spiel with Dean, don’t use the hotplate, don’t open the door to anyone but me, salt the windows and door. He put Sammy into the big bed beside his brother and kissed them both goodnight.

Outside he turned and headed for the nearest bar. Three years was a long time for a man to be without a woman. The bitter pain like a knife in his gut still twisted whenever he thought of Mary but his body responded now when he saw a pretty girl on the street, or when a demon was cuter than she should be. If he wasn’t careful the lust would dull his edge and he wasn’t about to let that happen.

In the bar he ordered up a drink, chatted to the bartender. When he’d been in the marines it had been so easy to get laid, girls had thrown themselves at him and his buddies. He sat there for an hour drinking steadily watching the women in the place; the drunk, the needy, the desperate. Finally he walked to the payphone in the corner, dialled a number he knew by heart. “Hey Bobby, you know the offer you made last Christmas? I think I’m ready to take you up on it.”

*************

John looked round the clutter that was in his lockup, the trophies and mementos of his life that he hadn’t been able to leave behind. ‘Travel light’ had always been his motto but this place gave the lie to that. Well now was the time to be all business again, he nodded to Bobby who silently handed him a garbage sack.

He didn’t know why he’d kept this stuff so long anyway; it was all smoke stained or fire damaged. Anyway he needed the shelf space for his growing collection of evil objects, satanica and unbanishable spirits sealed in the curse boxes lovingly carved for him by Bobby.

He hadn’t been able to save Mary from the darkness but he’d make damn sure he’d save everyone else he could. Bobby clapped a reassuring hand on his shoulder and they began to bag up all that had been saved from the fire. It was time to move on.

*************

Dean looked like he was going to burst with pride as he watched his little brother graduate from high school, class valedictorian even though they’d been here less than a year. Dad wasn’t here to see it of course; he was off on a hunt that was more important than Sam’s big day.

Sam looked over at Dean and grinned then made his way to the podium. “Mayor, ladies and gentlemen, Principal Erickson , as I start my speech I have to give my heartfelt thanks to the one person who has made it possible for me to be here today…”

A single tear blurred Dean’s vision and trailed a glistening path down his cheek. _Mom should be here to see this._

*************

Sam’s shoulder hurt like a bitch. He bit down hard on his lip as Dean pulled the slug out of the wound and took another pull from the bottle of whisky that Dean had given him to numb the pain, the alcohol was half gone already so when was it going to start getting numb?

“Dean!” he slurred drunkenly, “Dean my shoulder hurts, Dean make it better for me”. Dean was packing the wound now, carefully taping the dressing in place. “Always Sammy, I’ll always make it better for you if I can.” Dean’s touch was sure and gentle as he helped his brother settle down on the motel bed.

“Dean, Dean your eyes are green!” Sam crooned sleepily. “I know Sammy,” Dean grinned at him affectionately, happy now that he knew his brother was safe. He eased the bottle out of Sam’s grasp and took a swig of the remaining liquor.

“But me and Dad’ve got brown eyes Dean, why’re your eyes green?” Sammy’s eyes were closing as he spoke; already he was drifting into sleep. Dean tucked the covers in, snuggling Sam in safe like he used to when Sam was a kid.

“I’ve got Mom’s eyes,” he whispered softly.

  


  


  



End file.
